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No one knew exactly when it began, but the sky had started to darken. The fine weather of the morning had abruptly given way to dense, heavy clouds. Raindrops as large as beans fell as if they cost nothing, pelting the canvas of the tents with a loud, frantic 'pitter-patter', as if the fabric might tear apart under the assault at any moment.
Amid such foul weather, the ongoing offensive against Pingyang had no choice but to slow its pace.
However, all of this had little to do with Yu Fuluo. He had never involved himself in the affairs of Pingyang to begin with, and thus had remained within his own camp tent all along.
But at this moment, Yu Fuluo's emotions were exceedingly complex.
He stared at the blade laid out before him, hesitation gripping his heart.
It was an old combat blade. Its scabbard was made of worn ox leather, darkened to a glossy black from long use. Wrapped around the scabbard were several wolf fangs serving as ornaments. The blade itself, along with the faint, indelible reddish hue hidden within the steel, undoubtedly proved this was no mere decorative piece. It was a weapon that had drunk deep of fresh blood.
This blade had just been delivered by a Hu tribesman.
That Hu man's name was A'da.
A'da, A'da.
Yu Fuluo murmured the name twice under his breath, then suddenly shook his head.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but…
A'da, in the Hu language, meant "bone."
Yet, within the linguistic framework of the Hu people, their diet consisted mostly of beef and mutton. Once the meat was consumed, the bones were what remained—inedible, leftover, useless, lowly…
If this A'da had been specially chosen as an envoy precisely because of this name…
Hmph. Yu Fuluo expelled a short, derisive breath through his nostrils.
The tent flap was thrown aside, and Huchuquan entered. He swatted futilely at the rainwater clinging to his clothes and said, "Such heavy rain… Chanyu, you sent for me?"
Yu Fuluo motioned for Huchuquan to sit closer. He then slid the blade back into its long scabbard, placed it on the low table, and pushed it forward. "Someone delivered this just moments ago. Take a look."
Outside the tent, the rain continued its relentless, irritating 'pitter-patter'.
Huchuquan took the blade and let out a soft exclamation of surprise. Its ornamentation did not follow the common Han style but was instead saturated with the distinctive aura of the Hu people.
Huchuquan ran his fingers over the wolf fangs adorning the scabbard and realized these were all upper canine teeth from wolves.
Although a wolf possesses four large fangs, for a male wolf, the upper canines are not only immensely powerful weapons for killing but also tools for displaying masculine prowess. Therefore, the upper fangs of a male wolf are generally thicker and more robust. And these particular fangs used as decoration were clearly not from young, ordinary males…
If this blade were in the hands of an average Han person, they likely wouldn't discern anything particularly special about it. But both Yu Fuluo and Huchuquan had grown up on the grasslands. Their familiarity with wolves was no less than their knowledge of horses, allowing them to easily recognize the differences here.
The fangs of a young male wolf tend to be relatively light in weight, with a smoother, even aesthetically pleasing surface. In contrast, an old male wolf, having engaged in far more battles than its younger counterparts, possesses fangs that are thicker, scarred, and uglier. Holding them, one could almost smell the scent of bloodlust emanating from the dentine. This was especially true for the distinct blood groove running from the tip all the way to the base of the fang—its presence felt even more intensely here.
"This…" Huchuquan weighed a single wolf fang in his hand, "…probably isn't from an ordinary male wolf… It might even be the fang of an alpha wolf."
Huchuquan then counted the number of fangs wrapped around the scabbard. There were eighteen in total—nine pairs.
If his guess was correct, this meant nine alpha wolves had been slain, and their upper canines taken to adorn this very blade!
Although both his own people and the northern Hu tribes revered the wolf and shared the custom of using wolf teeth as ornaments, it was truly rare to find someone so… fanatical as to exclusively select the two upper fangs of alpha wolves for decoration. The key point was that a single blade utilized the teeth of nine alphas…
A person suddenly flashed through Huchuquan's mind, causing him to suck in a sharp, cold breath.
"By the Eternal Sky!" Huchuquan grew restless, as if something had pricked him from beneath his seat. He asked urgently, "…Chanyu… this blade… it couldn't be… that… that madman's, could it? Has that madman come?"
In the northern lands, there was a legend about a certain madman. It was said he once, alone and on a single horse, pursued wolf packs. Within a month, he killed the alpha wolves of nine different packs and harvested their fangs. In the end, even the wolves, creatures known for holding grudges and seeking revenge for the slightest offense, would flee at the mere sight of him.
That madman's name was Lü Bu.
Yu Fuluo remained silent for a moment before saying, "The blade is his. But the man himself likely has not come here."
Huchuquan let out a slight sigh of relief. "Then who delivered this blade?"
"It was sent by that Han man from the market settlement, the one named Fei Qian," Yu Fuluo replied.
"He just sent a blade? Nothing else?"
"There was also a message," Yu Fuluo said, his eyes fixed on Huchuquan. "'If you comprehend its meaning, come find me ten li to the north.' So, my Right Wise King, tell me… what meaning does this blade represent?"
Almost without a moment's thought, Huchuquan reflexively responded, "Well, Chanyu, what do 'you' think he means by this?"
Yu Fuluo's eyebrows shot up, and he glared at Huchuquan.
Huchuquan shrank his neck into his shoulders, lowered his head, and focused on stroking the blade, not daring to utter another word.
"You are the Right Wise King now. One day, you will have to lead armies independently. Do you intend to come running to me every single time then, asking what things mean?"
Huchuquan instinctively searched for an excuse. "But that's a Han person. We, Sons of Chinu, don't have so many twisted, convoluted intestines in our bellies…"
'Bang!' Yu Fuluo slammed his hand down on the table, his voice filled with anger. "We are dealing with Han people now! If you don't use your brain, you'll be devoured without even knowing how you died! Moreover, Sons of Chinu… Hmph! What about Baima Tong? What about Xiu Gehu? What about Xialuo? Do you think they are all as brainless as you?"
Bracing himself against the spray of his brother's furious spittle, Huchuquan fell into silent thought. After a while, his face suddenly lit up with realization. "I know! The meaning of this blade is that this Han man from the market is in league with that madman!"
"Hmm." Yu Fuluo propped his forehead with his hand, rolling his eyes skyward. "…And what else?"
That was the most superficial interpretation anyone could deduce.
Ah! Why did I end up with such a foolish younger brother?
Huchuquan's eyes widened. "Ah? There's more?!"
Yu Fuluo, truly unable to bear it any longer, offered a hint. "There should be three, no, four more layers of meaning… Think more deeply about our current situation… Also, the messenger sent by that Han man from the market to deliver the blade… he is also a son of Chinu. His name is… A'da."
"A'da? What connection does a wretched name like that have with the blade? This… what other meanings could there possibly be? And three or four of them?!" Huchuquan looked on the verge of tears. 'My elder brother, the Chanyu, you might as well take this blade and strike me down instead…'